Alex Wheeler Movie Ops

A film going on a journey of tension is common, as are films about the trials of motherhood. They aren’t often paired, though, because it’s taboo to think of motherhood being so trying. Moms are supposed to take care of the kids, the house, and their job as their roles have expanded in certain areas without decreasing expectations in others. The idea that women can do everything at the same time sets up impossible expectations, and anyone who buys into it is likely to be driven up the wall.

That’s what’s happened to Linda (Rose Byrne), the very central character in If I Had Legs I’d Kick You. She’s a mom to a young girl with an unspecified illness. And she’s taking care of everything while her husband is away for work. And she’s a therapist who must show up for her clients. There’s no give anywhere, so when the ceiling of her apartment comes crashing down, so too does her mental state.

Writer/director Mary Bronstein turns the situation into an anxiety-inducing spiral, drawing out horror, dark comedy, and everything in between as Linda flails through the situation. The events take place over a short period of time, and the camera keeps an extremely close eye on Linda. There’s a bold choice made here: much of the film is a close-up on Byrne, keeping many key figures and events out of view. The effect is incredibly restrictive in the best way. You are stuck with Linda, never leaving her point of view, as trapped as she is. There will be times when you want to squirm away, take a break. Even if you are watching at home and can pause the film, don’t do it. Let the tension rack up. Linda will make choices you may judge harshly, but empathizing with her situation will make that very difficult.

The person who is most affected by Linda’s predicament (except Linda, of course) is her daughter. Her daughter is also the biggest thing that’s left offscreen. You don’t see the child for the majority of the movie and her condition is never explained. She’s amorphous, disconnected from the viewer because Linda has disconnected as well. Her child has fallen into her pile of stressors, which has become so large that she can’t separate them. 

You hear the girl constantly, her high-pitched voice cutting through whatever Linda is thinking or feeling. Instead of being a grounding figure, her presence fuels Linda’s spiral. Even at night, when the girl is asleep in the motel room they share while their apartment is being fixed, the machine pumping food into her body grates. Linda sees it as a failure. Her child isn’t eating enough, and Linda is supposed to be working with her to improve her intake. It’s not improving, though, so the machine’s whir becomes a cacophanous reminder of failure.

That’s the key driver here: failure. That is what Linda can’t take in, yet it’s pounding at her mind. Every trick Bronstein does tees it up, but Byrne must get across such an internal struggle. She lets her shifting face communicate it. She stiffens when around her daughter’s doctor or the parking attendant who chastises her for minor violations. These are people who evaluate and judge her, and she’s sure they’re judging harshly. When Linda’s alone, Byrne’s face wilts, the last bit of her energy going to keeping up appearances instead of taking care of herself. Because of the camera’s relentless focus on her, Byrne can’t make a single wrong twitch, and she never does.

The combination of Byrne’s exceptional performance and Bronstein’s precise vision makes If I Had Legs I’d Kick You a tough, rewarding sit. They’re grappling with feelings many women have but rarely express, getting across complicated emotions clearly. That’s why the film has to have such a strong style. It’s bold and vulnerable, wide open to misinterpretation and judgment. It’s imploring you to stop that judgment, especially internally. Life brings too many things to juggle, and you’ll inevitably drop some balls. If you don’t accept and forgive yourself for that, you’ll go through the punishing journey Linda does and for much longer than this uncomfortable film lasts.

Release: available to stream now
Director: Mary Bronstein
Writers: Mary Bronstein
Cast: Rose Byrne, Conan O’Brien, Danielle Macdonald, Christian Slater, ASAP Rocky